


5 Times Angus Doesn't Say Anything and One Time He Does

by thilesluna



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (from his dad), (it's grandpa), 5+1 Things, Concussions, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Found Family, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: It's a 5+1 Things fic which I've never done before. It's the 5 times Angus tries to keep some stuff to himself and the rest of the Bureau is like BRUH NO.





	1. A Shoulder

There's something about this mission that seems off. Angus can't decide if it's because he's there or if it's because the place they're in just _feels_ wrong.

 

The voice in his head tells him it's because of him but he brushes it aside because he _has_ to be here. He's the ~~world's~~ moon's greatest detective and the boys need him to be here.

 

It's not a grand relic per say, but it is something powerful and dangerous that has lead to the deaths of more people than the Director is comfortable with—the fact that there's a number she is comfortable with doesn't escape Angus and thinking of it makes him shiver as he walks next to Magnus.

 

Magnus, with his surprisingly good perception, notices. "You good, little man?"

 

Angus does his best to smile and nod the way he usually does. It falls a little flat. "All good, sir!" Magnus raises a bushy eyebrow and Angus falters. He forgot that they _know_ him, at least well enough to know when he's not being totally truthful. He's not used to being around the same people for long enough for that to happen. "Uh, I'm nervous? I guess? Its just start-of-mystery butterflies! I promise I'm alright, sir!"

 

Magnus studies him for a moment more before Merle waddles up to them, elbowing Magnus in the side—though it falls more at his upper thigh, a sight that almost makes Angus laugh—and says "Leave the kid alone, Maggie. He's just a baby out in the world for the first time."

 

"I'm not a baby, sir! I’ve been on more mysteries than I can even count and taken down murderers and thieves. Besides, I'm nearly eleven years old!" Angus protests. It's not a lie, technically. Just a stretching of the truth because he had just only turned 10 when the Rockport Express murder happened so in a another 5 months he'll be 11. Five months counts as almost, right?

 

"Your birthday isn't for another five months, Agnes," Taako drawls from the back of the group and Angus falters.

 

"I—I didn't—how did you...?"

 

"I have my ways," Taako says airily, his chin tipped toward the sky. He looks like every inch the high-elf he is…until he turns his head just enough to look down his long nose and Angus and wink. "Just kidding my man, I totally stole a bunch of the personnel files to have stuff to gossip about." It's a lie, he’s sure of it, but Angus doesn’t know quite what Taako is lying about. It could be the reason for stealing the files or it could be the actual theft itself. The one thing he does know is that clearly Taako cared enough to remember the date. Angus hides a smile behind his hand because it's all _very_ Taako to care _enough_ to know his birthday but also goof on him just a little bit.

 

"Keep an eye out Ango," Magnus calls from where he's moved a few feet ahead. “Don’t get too distracted.” Magnus makes a silly face at him and then grins when Angus laughs.

 

"I'm always looking, sir!" he replies and it's true. No matter how hard he tries sometimes, he can't help but look or investigate or pry. It used to get him in trouble all the time when he was younger.

 

 _Angus why can't you just go outside and play with the other kids_ , his nanny would say. _Why must you always be underfoot?_

 

He had always fumbled with excuses but the real reason he didn't go out with the other kids because the other kids wouldn't have him. It always ended up with Angus saying something he shouldn't by accident and then him limping him with a bruised little boy body and dirty clothes. His father would take one look at him and then huff, pointing up the stairs. Angus would shuffle into the bath to clean himself up and be presentable for dinner. It was wholly embarrassing and shameful to have his father see him like that.

 

Angus shakes his head and focuses on the woods around them. The path is old but worn, probably being used for centuries to get through this forest. He likes the way the dirt crunches beneath his sneaker despite how Taako had complained that it was making his robes dusty. Magnus seems to be the happiest here, even over Merle whose domain is literally nature. Angus reflexively kicks at a stone on the path, sending it flying up ahead of the group. It bounces a few times before rolling to a stop in front of Merle as they catch up.

 

Magnus looks over his shoulder and smirks at Angus before elbowing Merle out of the way and sending the rock tumbling down the path. The dwarf smacks Magnus on the arm, complaining loudly about pushy humans and stupid games. Angus cracks another smile, kicks another stone and the game begins.

 

One of the things that he loves about the Reclaimers is that they’re very much like large children. They sometimes act the way he assumes kids his age would—he doesn’t have much to go by except for the things that he likes—and he thinks hanging out with them is kind of nice. He and Magnus kick rocks ahead down the path for a few minutes, laughing when Merle complains again about how easily humans are entertained. Taako snorts out laughter of his own when Angus accidentally kicks a stone directly into the back of Merle’s heel and it bounces up to hit him on the butt.

 

Angus realizes that this is just really _nice_. For a moment he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly in a life or death scenario where people are depending on him. He feels a little like a real life kid.

 

Which is, predictably, when everything kind of falls to shit.

 

It takes him a second to notice actually, which makes him panic because that might mean he’s slipping. He draws his foot back, kicks at a rock, and sends it flying. It bounces once, then again, and then disappears with a quiet sound that reminds Angus of summer lightning storms from when he was a child.

 

It’s almost embarrassing how long it takes him to put two and two together.

 

Merle is shaking his head and looking back at the two of them where he leads the group and Angus is small but he’s pretty fast. It’s easier to dart forward and grab Merle than it is to shout a warning—though he’s pretty sure he yells something unintelligible too. He grabs the dwarf over his shoulders and yanks him backward, pulling Merle on top of him as they crash to the ground. Merle squawks out a sounds that might have been funny if Angus wasn’t so sure that his friend was about to die.

 

It also might have been funny if Merle hadn’t landed directly on him and if something in his shoulder hadn’t made such a sickening _pop_.

 

He’s done this before. The dislocation isn’t the best feeling in the world but at least he knows he can fix it. Angus steadies his breath and remembers it being reset once in a healer’s ward after a nasty confrontation with the school yard bully and then resetting it himself once during a particularly exciting chase with an escaped murderer.

 

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out because right now they don’t really have time to do anything but figure out what the hell is going on. Magnus grabs Merle beneath his armpits and lifts him up. Angus scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can without jostling his shoulder.

 

“What the hell, kid?” Merle shouts and Angus flinches back just a little bit. He knows that Merle isn’t really mad but at the same time it’s a reflex that he can’t help. Being a small boy in a very big world means that adults yell at you a lot, but he’s also learned that most of the time it’s just because they’re scared.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he says, quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you—“ Merle grumbles something about how nothing startles him and Taako rolls his eyes. “—but watch!” He picks up another stone from the path and tosses it at the air in front of them. They all watch as it disappears with a sizzle.

 

Taako walks forward and Angus scrambles, grabbing at the sleeve of his robe. He lets out a pained noise when the instinctive movement wrenches his arm. Taako freezes and whirls to face him. “Angus—“

 

“I’m sorry, sir!” he releases the wizard’s sleeve quickly, like he’s been burned. His arm drops back to his side and hangs limply. His shoulder is burning like fire but he blinks back the tears. He’s _not_ a baby. “I didn’t mean to—I just thought—“ Angus looks at all of them and they stare back.

 

Magnus blinks slowly. “Angus your—“

 

He can feel his lower lip trembling but he clears his throat instead and moves toward the barrier. “I t-think it’s some sort of barrier but what’s odd it that—“

 

“Angus,” Taako says, taking a step forward. Angus snaps his mouth shut. “Are you hurt?”

 

“I’m fine sir!” he lies. “Just an achy shoulder!” He tries to shrug but his smile turns more into a wince and a stupid tear slips down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly.

 

Magnus narrows his eyes. “Angus,” he says seriously. He takes a step forward and goes down on one knee in front of him. “We—we’re not _mad_. We just want to know if you’re okay.” His hands hover near Angus’s shoulders but don’t touch. Angus can see the way his eyes are calculating the strange angle of his shoulder and the way he flinches if the hands get too close.

 

Angus blinks again and feels another hot tear slip. “I landed on it funny,” he says quietly, knowing there’s no lying about it now.

 

“Oh, pumpkin,” Taako murmurs. “You were just going to waltz around with a dislocated shoulder? How long did you think you were going to be able to keep that up?”

 

“I thought w-we should figure out what’s going on with the barrier—“ Angus tries. He doesn’t want to get in trouble for not being careful and for lying. He doesn’t want them to keep sounding so disappointed.

 

Merle’s gruff voice cuts him off. “We will, eventually! Kid, you can’t just go on like your shoulder ain’t broke!” He starts to call up Pan to perform a healing spell but Angus stops him.

 

“Merle, sir! Don’t—I can fix it myself I think. I’ve done it before! We don’t need to waste a spell slot on healing!” The Reclaimers stare at him. Angus can feel his face heating up. “We might need them and uh, I mean, I’m like 95% sure I can fix it and it’s not like you need me for fighting right? It’ll just hurt for a bit but I think I can like, figure out a way to make something cold to hold on it with Taako’s Ring of Frost and—“

 

Taako claps a hand over Angus’s mouth mid-sentence. “You’ve ‘done it’ before? What does that mean?”

 

Angus stops himself from shrugging just in time to save himself from even _more_ radiating pain. “I’ve reset my shoulder before, sir. I was tracking this murderer who was into this really gruesome stuff and I fell off the fire escape of this one building. It was all pretty exciting until I realized that I’d dislocated my shoulder again and I couldn’t go home with it like that! My dad—“

 

“ _Again_?” Magnus asks, bewildered.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Angus says. “The first time a healer did it for me.”

 

Magnus scrunches up his face in a way that Angus has come to associate with thinking. “How did it get dislocated the first time, Ango?”

 

“I was in the way of a boy in my school who wanted to beat up my friend,” he replies. They weren’t really _friends_ because even the low kids on the totem pole didn’t really want to associate with him, but Angus had never been a fan of seeing other kids get beat up. “He tried to move me out of the way and I, uh—um I tripped, I guess.” He looks down at his shoes knowing that this is another lie but having had repeated it so many times that it seemed true.

 

“Jesus, Angus,” Magnus breathes.

 

“So you reset your own shoulder in an alley?” Taako asks, his voice a little bit accusing.

 

Angus glances up at him. “I had to, sir! The suspect was getting away and my dad—“ He sees Taako nod slightly and that’s all the warning he gets before he feels warmth from Merle’s hand on his good shoulder that seems to spread across his chest and settle like a blanket over the burning pain. “Sir! You shouldn’t—“

 

“Shut the fuck up, kid,” Merle grunts. “We’re not about to let a 10-year-old reset his own shoulder and suffer through the pain on his own. We’re not monsters and besides, the Director would kill us.”

 

“And Carey,” Magnus adds. “And actually, Killian too. And probably Avi.” He thinks for a moment. “Actually the whole Bureau of Balance would totally murder us if we let that happen.”

 

Angus lets the relief settle over him and closes his eyes. When he opens them, completely healed, Merle and Magnus are bickering but Taako is still staring right at him. “Mr. Taaco, sir?”

 

Taako shakes his head and sighs. “You’re a mystery, kiddo.”

 

Angus isn’t really sure what he means.


	2. A Finger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angus wants to be a fighter boy so he can go on missions to find more stuff to help the Bureau. Carey, Killian, and Noelle help. Sort of.

It was actually his idea to start some physical training. He’s a little boy but some day ( _hopefully_ —no, don’t think things like that) he will be a real grown up like the rest of the Bureau and Seekers have to be able to defend themselves. He’s got his little crossbow and he’s pretty stealthy when he needs to be, but the more he thinks about being out in the field, the more he knows he has to be able to take care of himself.

 

Angus thinks about asking Magnus for some help but he doesn’t want to be a bother, especially after how they all seem a little different after the town in the bubble. He could ask Avi but the director has him working extra long hours with lots of comings and goings to the planet. Seekers are being sent out more and more as the Director gets anxious for more signs of the Relics. He’s asked to go more than once but she waves him off—not in a mean way but in a way that says “You’re crazy if you think I’m sending a 10-year-old out into the world all on his own”—and tells him he would be of more use researching in the Bureau’s extensive library.

 

If he’s being honest, this is also one of the reasons he wants to get some training in. It would be nice to be seen as fully capable and independent for a change.

 

So instead of being upfront about it—which god, his father would have hated: _A McDonald goes after what they want Angus. A McDonald doesn’t wait or take no for an answer_ —he kind of just…hangs out in front of the icosagon where the Reclaimers and Regulars all train.

 

He starts out sitting next to the main door, book in his lap but getting next to no reading done. He fidgets as he watches the comings and goings. Magnus goes in and out a few times, always waving or stooping to quickly ruffle Angus’s hair. Merle grunts at him and Taako nods the one time the both of them use the training area. Angus is pretty familiar with all of the employees of the Bureau if only because his grandfather would always stress that it’s important to know all of your coworkers names.

 

About an hour in, he stands and stretches. He leans against the wall trying—and failing—to look nonchalant. He does some more stretching, hoping that someone will think he’s getting ready to go in and invite him to go with them.

 

It’s a very overcomplicated plan, if he’s being honest.

 

Angus is about to give up and go back to his room when his three favorite Regulators show up for training. He grins and waves when Carey sticks her tongue out at him. Killian just shakes her head and smiles fondly at the two of them. Noelle is the one who floats over to where he’s standing.

 

“Howdy, Angus!” she says happily. Angus loves Noelle and loves that she’s endlessly positive in a world that just…isn’t. “Whatcha doin’ out here, sweetness?”

 

“Well, Miss Noelle—“

 

“Honey, just Noelle will do. No need for formalities.”

 

Angus offers her a small smile. “Well, _Noelle_ ,” he tries again, “I was just reading my book and I was—“

 

“Looking for someone to train with?” Carey says from behind him. He jumps, dropping his book to the floor and throwing a hand over his heart. Carey laughs and pinches at his side.

 

He can tell that his face is flushed because it feels warm. “Y-yes, actually.”

 

“Wait,” Killian says, joining the group. “Seriously?”

 

“It’s important to be a well rounded boy, Miss Killian,” he replies, quickly but with a matter-of-fact tone. “If I ever want to be a really good Seeker, I need to know more than just how to shoot a little crossbow and how to make a flimsy Mage Hand.” Angus expects them to laugh at him or send him on his way but instead he sees the three of them make eye—well, seeing apparatus because Noelle doesn’t really _have_ eyes—contact and smile.

 

“Would you like us to teach you?” Carey asks. She’s not goofing or condescending. She bends down to look Angus in the eye and he wishes just for a moment he could hug her.

 

“That would be lovely,” he answers quietly. Carey laughs and scoops him up to rest him on her shoulders. Angus finds himself joining in and totally forgetting about his book on the floor.

 

\------

 

One of the things Angus has always appreciated about hand-to-hand fighting is that he’s never really had to do it before. Despite his logic and the reasons he wanted to be trained, right now, in this moment, he can’t for the life of him remember _why_ he thought this was a good idea.

 

The Regulators aren’t cruel and they take it, what he assumes is _very_ easy on him but he’s still struggling.

 

First it was laps and then stretching—which he actually did pretty well with. In order to be a good detective you need to have pretty decent aerobic stamina because more often than not, you’re literally _chasing_ down clues. After that, Killian showed him some basic fighting moves. Angus is a very fast learner but soon he discovers that knowing how to do things in practice and then actually getting his small, gangly boy body to do it is not so easy.

 

“Time for a break,” Carey calls when he messes up the steps to a block-punch combo again.

 

“No!” Angus cries and resets his feet. He’s sweaty and tired but he can _do_ this. “I can do it I promise!” He sees Killian exchange a look with the rest of her team but he ignores it, just like he ignores the burning in the back of his eyes because _why can’t he do this_?

 

“Okay,” she says. “One more time and then we take a break. It’s been almost forty minutes since the last time you got some water.”

 

The move is relatively simple—which is probably the most frustrating part. It’s a high block over his head, a step to the right to avoid another attack to his side, and then a straight arm punch at the attacker, played by Killian, wielding a wooden staff and a very simple shield. Angus rethinks the steps in his head and gets ready. “I’m good,” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as tired as he feels.

 

Killian raises the staff over her head and brings it down carefully but with a decent amount of speed. Angus blocks it and then moves to step out of the way of the attack with the shield. He misjudges the distance and ends up catching his pinky finger on the edge of the shield as it comes in fast. The side step was the one part he was getting right so Killian has been coming a little faster and harder each time. Angus doesn’t _hear_ his finger snap but he certainly feels it.

 

He still finishes the move and actually lands a solid punch on the open space he’s been aiming for. Carey and Noelle cheer but Killian watches him carefully. “Did I get you with the shield?” she asks, dropping it to the side and bending over in front of him.

 

Angus smiles, curling his opposite hand over his throbbing pinky finger. “I’m a-alright, Miss Killian,” he stammers. “Just a little bruise I’m sure.”

 

Carey comes bounding over, water skin clutched in her claws. “That was great Angus! You got it that time!” He smiles up at her but doesn’t take the offered drink. He knows the second Killian sees his finger—it _feels_ swollen and the tip of it is just a little bit numb—she’s going to know it’s broken. He doesn’t want to make her feel bad.

 

“Thanks, Miss Carey!” he says and he really is proud, he just wishes his finger didn’t feel like it was going to fall off. “I’m—I’m very tired. And sweaty. Would it be okay for me to go back to my room now?” Killian is still looking at him suspiciously but Carey laughs and pats him on the head.

 

“Sure thing, Angus,” she says, handing the water skin off to Killian instead.

 

He turns to leave, only grabbing his towel with his back to the two of them so they don’t see. His finger is bent a little wrong at the middle knuckle and is also double the size it should be. And it’s purple, very, very purple. He’s almost at the door when he hears Noelle call his name. “Angus, darlin’, your book!” He turns just in time to see her underhand lob it in his direction.

 

Angus drops the towel he’s holding on instinct and catches the fairly thick tome in his hands. Then he immediately drops it too, letting out a cry. The book hit him right on the bad finger and on top of that, he tried to bend them all to catch it.

 

There are four hands and a metal claw thing on him almost instantly. Killian swears under her breath and Angus can feel the tears streaming from his eyes. Twice in as many months, he cries in front of his friends, something he swore he’d never do. “I’m s-sorry,” he starts but doesn’t have the chance to finish apologizing as Carey scoops him up in her arms, bridal style. She’s not a large dragonborn but being in her arms this way reminds him of when he was a very small child, before his mother passed and she would carry him around the same way.

 

“Hush no,” Noelle says gently. “No need to apologize.”

 

“If anyone’s apologizing here it’s me, Angus,” Killian says, brushing his hair back from his forehead. The gentleness of it all makes Angus cry harder.

 

“I-it was my fault,” he blubbers. “I d-didn’t move m-my hand fast enough.”

 

Carey makes a tutting noise and holds him a little bit tighter while Killian takes his hands into her to examine his finger. “Not your fault Ango,” she says. “Everybody gets hurt training. It’s a part of it.” She moves them over to the bleachers that line the icosagon and sits with him in her lap. He feels very much like a small child in this moment and for the first time in _years_ he doesn’t mind it. She wipes at his cheek with a scaly hand. “What we don’t do,” she continues, firmly, “is lie about whether we’re hurt or not.”

 

“As much as we want you to learn,” Noelle goes on, “we certainly don’t want you hurt.”

 

Killian looks down at him with a soft smile. “Besides, if we let you get hurt I think Taako would murder us in our sleep.”

 

“The other boys too,” Carey chimes in.

 

“Very true,” Killian laughs. Angus leans against Carey’s shoulder, exhausted from the training and from crying. “We’re going to take you to the med bay, is that okay Angus?”

 

“I can walk there myself, Miss Killian,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to mess up your training time.”

 

“Oh Angus. Honey,” Noelle sighs. “We’re takin’ you to the infirmary and then we’re gettin’ some ice cream at the Fantasy Costco and havin’ ourselves a night in.”

 

“You don’t—“

 

“We know we don’t _have_ to, Angus,” Carey says, standing. She’s still got Angus in her arms and seems set on _literally_ carrying him to the infirmary.

 

“We want to,” Killian says with a smile.

 

It’s not until much later when they’re asleep on the couch in their quarters and Noelle is on standby in the corner, that Angus realizes how much he wanted this too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's that you say???? two chapters in one day??? could it be the emotional turmoil i'm in since episode 65???????????
> 
> wejustdontknow.png


	3. A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternately titled: holy shit when did this turn into a character study of the director but also i don't hate it at all.
> 
> Angus can't sleep and the Director can't watch a little boy suffer.

There are many things in the world that Angus McDonald is afraid of. He is afraid of large, unexplored bodies of water. He’s afraid of becoming lost in new places. He’s definitely not a fan of close spaces. His list of fears is long and varying.

 

Until recently, he didn’t think he’d be so scared of losing people.

 

The nightmare starts after the teams set off to the Miller labs and grows and shifts as time goes on. At first it’s a fairly accurate retelling of the conversation over the stones of farspeech. The Reclaimers call him and ask for help and immediately after he gives his answer, the stone cuts out, sudden and harsh. He tries over and over but gets nothing in response. Instead of the Director being there with words of comfort, she stares down at him, horrified.

 

“ _You’ve killed them, Angus_ ,” she says. He shakes his head, backing away as she and Davenport advance on him. “ _They’re dead, Angus. You did this and they’re_ gone _._ ”

 

He can’t open his mouth or speak, to explain that it _wasn’t_ his fault. His tongue is a heavy weight against his teeth. The lights dim around them until it’s just inky blackness and they’re moving forward and forward until they’re towering over him, looking down at him like they’re giants. The worst is that Angus knows this isn’t real—he remembers what actually happened because he spends hours and hours replaying it over and over in his head—but he _can’t_ wake up. He wants out and to awaken but that voice in his head tells him he deserves it because he might not have done it this time, but he _will_. He’ll let them down. Angus wakes with sweat soaking his sheets and shaking hands.

 

He doesn’t go back to sleep after that.

 

Sometimes he reads in his bed, other times he’ll wander outside a bit. The stars are comforting in a strange way, so similar to what they’ve always been and yet so much more now that they’re closer. The stillness of the Bureau of Balance headquarters brings him a level of comfort that he can’t really explain.

 

The nightmare doesn’t happen every night but as time goes on, it gets worse.

 

When you’re a little boy who goes from having only one person you can count on to having an entire moon base full of people who would go to great lengths to see you cared for, it’s kind of like a type of vertigo. It makes him dizzy and makes his breath catch in his throat. There are times, in the middle of research, that he has to steal away to his room or a closet just to _stop_ and talk stock of all the ways his life is different than it was. He counts backwards from 50 and if that doesn’t work, counts up to 100, taking deep, slow breaths.

 

The nightmare warps into a _presence_ that he can feel all the time, even on the nights it doesn’t come, even in his waking hours. Angus gets enough sleep to get by. _Just_ enough that he can keep on working and researching and being a productive member of the Bureau—because to fail them in that way would only be making the nightmare true.

 

And it’s not just Magnus and Taako and Merle anymore. It’s Carey and Killian, Avi, Johann, Davenport, The Director. It’s the wonderful cooks in the kitchen who let a small boy sneak in after lunch hours because he was too wrapped up in a book to realize the time. It’s Leon and Noelle. It’s _everyone_ , everyone keeps dying in his dreams and worse, those who survive are quick to place the blame on him.

 

The nights he has it, he doesn’t go back to sleep and sometimes it’s not until the early morning, which is honestly the best-case scenario. He gets most of the required rest in before he wakes up sweating and shaking. This week, however, has been…not great.

 

On Monday he wakes up at 12:30am. Tuesday is 1:47. Wednesday is 12:43. Thursday is 3:12. He’s been going to bed earlier with the hope that he’ll get more sleep that way but today—Friday—has him waking with a start and rolling over to reach for his watch with shaking hands. 12:05am.

 

Angus wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand as he flops back onto the scratchy Bureau-provided sheets. It’s his last set, the only clean sheets he has after sweating through the rest of them earlier this week. Angus rolls this way and that, gauging how gross the linens are and decides that he can make them work until Sunday, Bureau Laundry Day. He wants to curse aloud but he knows it won’t do any real good. His glasses are perched precariously on the edge of his fantasy nightstand and he slips them onto his face. They slide down his nose as he sits up, his skin still slick with sweat. He makes a frustrated noise as he hauls himself out of the bed.

 

The moon base hasn’t even reached it’s peak stillness yet, he realizes after pulling on his bathrobe and slippers to wander outside. There are still plenty of people wandering around and finishing up their daily tasks. He flashes them all a small smile when they wave or wish him a good night, letting his feet take him wherever they may. He’s a very, very tired boy and his mind is just not working so well right now.

 

He idly wishes he hadn’t looked in the mirror before leaving his bathroom earlier. There are dark circles under his eyes and he’s sure that someone will notice his poor sleeping habits soon. His skin is ashy and his cheeks are sunken, making him look almost like something undead. Angus decides he has to fix this soon because doesn’t want to bother anyone with this sort of thing. He can take care of this on his own.

 

 _“A nightmare?” his father demands. “A McDonald faces his fears and moves on with his life. I don’t expect that you’ll be able to ask anyone to sleep in their bed with them if you have a nightmare so I don’t see why_ I _would allow such childish behavior. Take care of it on your own and go back to sleep,” he says firmly, closing the door in the very young boy’s face_.

 

His feet end up taking him to the library. It’s one of his most favorite places on the base because it’s full of some of his favorite things. _Books_.

 

When he first came to the moon, he spent much of his time there. Too much if you ask Magnus. He smiles thinking about the way the man had teased Angus about it but had still found the time to sit with him in the stiff, wooden chairs, reading books about carpentry of all things. Magnus had complained heartily about the discomfort of the space, claiming that whoever had made the furniture was a follower of some dark magics.

 

No one ever said where the new chairs came from, but there’s a tiny carving of a duck on the seat of Angus’s favorite rocking chair and whenever Magnus comes in to bring him something to eat, he nods and smiles to himself, like he’s happy to see Angus sitting there.

Tonight, there is no Magnus in the library and Angus fleetingly wishes he were there. Dorena, the librarian and a stern, Halfling woman with a soft spot for boy detectives, has left for the night, which means that Angus is the only person in the whole place. He wanders past the more _research_ oriented books and over to the very small, mostly stocked by him, fiction section.

 

It has all of his favorite Caleb Cleveland books—he wanted to share them with the rest of the moon base, but he doesn’t think anyone has taken any out—and a few others that he brought with him from home. Every so often a slightly battered looking, clearly used book will show up on the shelf. Angus has peeled price tags from fantasy used book stores from quite a few books, smiling at the thought his fellow Bureau employees put into helping him stock the space.

 

He plucks a book at random—it doesn’t much matter which one he reads because with his very tired brain, he’s almost positive that he’s not going to actually retain anything he’s reading—and carries it over to his favorite chair. Carey had made a very messily sown pillow to place on the seat and he settles onto it after smoothing his fingers over Killian’s sloppy cross-stitched sunflower.

 

Angus reads for a while, getting through page after page and not remembering _anything_ from the reading. His head dips a few times but he tries his best not to fall asleep. He knows that on nights that he has the nightmare, going back to sleep just means having it all over again.

 

There’s a steady tick-ticking in his robe from his pocket watch. Normally it wouldn’t be heard but the library is so quiet that he can hear it like it’s right next to his ear. It’s hypnotizing, really, lulling him with the sure beat, over and over and over.

 

Angus is so _tired_.

 

 _“I’m not sure why we even trusted you!” Carey cries. She’s holding Killian to her chest and Killian isn’t_ moving _. “Why did we think you could do this?”_

_The Director is looking down at him, her face is stern and her staff is raised. “First the Reclaimers and now this?” she asks._

_Angus tries to speak, pushing himself away from the scene because he_ can’t _look. He can’t see what happened to Killian. He’s sitting on the ground, pushing himself with his hands and feet, scooting along the floor like a child._

_“You’re just a child,” the Director accuses. “We should have known better than to trust you. You’ve_ killed _them.”_

_The words strike him like a physical blow and he reels back. “No! No, no, nonono,” he yells. “I didn’t—it wasn’t—“_

_“It_ was _,” she says. “It was you. It was your fault, just like this is.”_

_Angus covers his face with his hands because he can’t look. “I-I’m sorry! I so s-sorry!”_

_She raises her staff but her voice isn’t harsh this time, it’s questioning. “Angus—?“_

“I k-killed them,” he sobs. “I’m sorry!”

 

“Angus!”

 

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jerks upright, his body lurching up from the floor where he’s fallen from the rocking chair. Angus looks around wildly and sees the Director standing over him. He panics, struggles to get away. He’s still crying, the tears running down his cheeks, hot and shameful. When his back hits the leg of one of the large library tables, he stops. The Director snatches her hand back from where she was reaching out to him.

 

“Angus?” she asks, her voice soft. She’s speaking like she would to a frightened animal and Angus realizes that’s exactly what he is.

 

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am,” he sputters, gripping his hands into tight fists so she can’t see them shake. Angus stumbles to his feet on very unsure legs, resting a hand on the table to steady himself. He sees her reach out for him again but restrain herself.

 

The Director has very sharp eyes and a very high perception of what’s going on around her. He can feel all of that focus on him. “Angus are you alright?” she asks in that same soft voice.

 

“I’m okay, Ma’am,” he says, trying for a smile. He tastes salt when his lips shift and he realizes that he’s still _crying_. He scrubs at his face with the sleeve of his robe. “I’m just fine.”

 

She eyes him carefully before standing and turning to leave the library. He gapes after her, frozen in place. The Director stops about 20 feet away, turning back to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Come along, Angus. Follow me.” He stares at her for a moment, waiting to see if this is some kind of trick or goof. She waits expectantly and he decides that there’s no goof at all and scurries after her.

 

“Ma’am I’m—“ he starts once they’re out of the dome and headed toward the one that houses her office. He trips, trying to keep up with her long strides and still reeling from his nightmare. She glances down at him and slows just enough that it makes it easier for him to stay at her pace.

 

“You’re following me to my office and that’s final, Angus,” she replies. Angus feels, for a moment, the way he used to when getting sent to the headmaster’s office for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. It’s a mixture of guilt and confusion and _fear_. A wild thought pops into his minds, as it often used to: _My father will be so upset with me_.

 

“But—“

 

“No buts,” The Director says. They stroll past Avi who’s headed to bed after a long day. He opens his mouth to ask a question but the cuts him off before he can say anything. “Hello, Avi. I know you’re heading to bed but I need a few things from the kitchen. Could you please fetch them for me?” She takes her small notebook from her cloak and scribbles a few words onto a sheet. She rips it free and hands it to him. Avi looks down at the paper and then at Angus before nodding, a small smile slipping onto his face.

 

“Sure thing, Director.”

 

“Just drop them by my office, please,” she says and then keeps walking. Angus struggles to catch up while still looking at Avi’s retreating back.

 

“Madam Director—“

 

“I can’t _force_ you to talk to me, Angus,” she says as they enter her office. She motions for him to sit down in a chair but instead of going around her desk to sit behind it, she sits next to him in the other chair for visitors. “I would never want you to think that of me and it’s not something I would ever do. God knows I have enough secrets of my own and to ask you to divulge yours would be hypocritical to say the _least_.” She speaks plainly and calmly, just as she always does. It’s a far cry from the Director in his dream and he revels in it. “So I won’t ask you to do anything but share in a tradition of mine.”

 

They sit in near silence for the next few minutes, waiting for Avi to appear. It’s not uncomfortable though, which Angus finds almost a little odd. For the most part, adults try to fill in conversation when they’re around him. They don’t seem to like the quiet of a small boy and he thinks, find it unnatural. He’s always been quiet though, for as long as he can remember. Sure, he can talk the ears off an elf but there’s much to be said for quiet reflection, he thinks.

 

There’s a soft knock at the door and the Director calls, “Come in, Avi.” The man enters, holding one of the lidded trays that the staff deliver meals with. He sets it down on the edge of the desk, tipping a non-existent hat to Angus and the Director. “Would you like to stay?” she asks, just as he’s about to leave the room.

 

Avi smiles, wide and genuine—that’s one of the things that Angus likes the most about him, how genuine he is all the time—but shakes his head. “Thanks but no thanks, Director. My bed is callin’ my name and I’d hate to disappoint.” Angus offers him a small smile in return, waving as he leaves.

 

The Director pulls the tray to her lap, lifting off the lid with a flourish. Underneath are two plates. “Blueberry or cherry?” she asks, motioning to the _very_ large slices of pie, complete with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“Which do you want?” she asks. “When I’m having…a rough night, I like to partake in a little treat.” She offers both plates out to him and he reaches out to grab the slice of blueberry pie. The Director smiles softly. “Good choice.”

 

“I’m sorry did you want—“

 

“Angus. Eat the pie,” she says, chuckling.

 

Silence settles over the room again, aside from the scraping of forks against plates. The pie is delicious and the ice cream has somehow not melted at all. The Director looks as though she’s thoroughly enjoying her slice as well.

 

Neither of them speak again until both plates are empty. Angus looks down at his fork, moving it absently though the left over streaks of blueberry filling on his. “I’m not sure what to say,” he begins. “I don’t know—“

 

The Director makes a soft, sad noise. “Would you like me to start?” Angus shrugs one shoulder, up and then down. She laughs quietly. “You know, I think sometimes we forget how young you are.” He looks up at her at that. “Honestly,” she says. “Sometimes you’re just too smart and too good and we forget, I think. And I think you forget sometimes too. Then other times,” she goes on. “Other times, your age is all we can see. You’re a small boy, Angus. You have to remember that.”

 

“I know, Ma’am,” he says.

 

She sighs. “When I was your age, I used to have a nightmare. I was alone in the woods of my home and the darkness was like nothing I’d ever seen before.” She stops there, lost in though for a moment. “I’ve since realized that there are other, more terrifying darknesses but back then, it was the most horrifying thing I’d ever seen.”

 

“Madam Director I—“

 

“Would you like to know what my mother told me?” she asks, cutting him off.

 

He thinks about it for a moment, takes in the Director’s easy posture and the earnest, open look on her face. “Yes, please,” he says softly.

 

“She told me that it was okay to be afraid,” she says. “I didn’t understand it at the time because the fear was _too much_ , too encompassing. I thought that every time I feel asleep, I wouldn’t be able to wake up.” Angus flinches at that, too tired to school his reactions.

 

“I’m afraid that one of these times, I’ll already be awake,” he mutters. “That it will have come true.” Angus looks up at the Director, searching her for a reaction but all she does is nod encouragingly. “What if it comes true?” he asks, his voice close to pleading. He’s so _tired_ and his eyes are burning.

 

“I don’t know exactly what you dream of Angus,” she replies. She sets her plate aside and takes his carefully from his hands. “But you have to know that no matter what happens on this moon or off it, whatever happens to your friends? None of it is your fault.” She reaches out a tentative hand, offering him what feels like a lifeline. He doesn’t hesitate. The Director pulls him onto her lap, doing her best to comfort him when he knows it’s not especially her thing, just like it isn’t really Taako’s.

 

Angus settles, resting his head against her shoulder. Her robes smell of lavender and sage and it reminds him of his grandfather’s sunroom. “But what if—“

 

“There’s nothing you could do that would make it your fault,” she says. “And if you think that, I’m not doing my job.”

 

“Your job?”

 

She pauses for a moment, her hand idly brushing along his back. “I started the Bureau to protect people. I wanted to make people safe and I wanted to ease their suffering. You’re _suffering_ Angus. I can see it in the bags under your eyes and I saw it in the way you looked at me in the library.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, unsure of what else to say.

 

“It’s not your fault,” she replies. He can feel himself starting to drift and he pinches at the skin of his wrist to keep himself away. His arm is covered in small bruises from pinches like that. The Director rests a hand over his, pulls it away carefully. “It’s okay, Angus,” she says. “You can sleep.”

 

“But I—“

  
She holds him tightly. “I’ll be here if you wake up and we’ll sneak into the kitchen for some more pie.” He laughs quietly against the soft fabric of her robes. “And if you want to talk about it then, we will, but you don’t have to.”

 

“Thank you,” he whispers, almost too quiet for her to hear. “I think you’re doing a great job.” He feels more than hears her soft exhale at his words.

 

Angus closes his eyes, lulled to sleep not by the ticking of his watch, but by the steady beat of the Director’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm emotional about lucretia like 22 out of 24 hours a day tbh
> 
> (find me on tumblr @geargieee)


	4. A Newspaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a shopping trip to Neverwinter, Angus reads about a big part of his former life in the newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentioned minor character death, just so you all know! It'll be in the tags but this is the actual chapter it happens in!

There isn’t really any mail on the moon and besides, no one down on the planet below even remembers that Angus exists, so it kind of makes sense that he doesn’t find out about his grandfather until he’s on an away mission—a shopping trip, really (Merle’s birthday is coming up and they want to surprise him with a small party)—with Killian and Carey.

 

It’s a wonderful day in Neverwinter. The sun shines bright but it’s still early spring so it’s not suffocating and hot. Angus walks between Killian and Carey, chatting with them about the plans for the party and what shops he’s looking forward to seeing now that he’s back in town. There’s a bookshop he’s particularly excited about and he hopes they’ll have time to stop even though they’re following a specific list from Taako.

 

Angus can’t help but pick up a paper from a newsstand they pass. It’s been so long since he’s been planet side that he feels like he’s missed so much of the goings on in the world. He’s curious to see what’s changed. The paper is tucked underneath his arm as they walk through the streets and when they arrive at the tavern where Killian ordered the barrel of mead, he sits outside in a sunny spot on the stone wall. Carey laughs and ruffles his hair. “You look like a little, old man,” she says.

 

Angus grins and half-heartedly pushes away her hand. “I like to read the paper,” he replies.

 

“You good out here, Ango?” Killian rests an elbow on the top of Angus’s head, leaning over him and making him laugh even as he fights the gentle pressure of the much larger creature pressing onto him.

 

“Yes, Miss Killian,” Angus says, finally pushing her off. He unfolds the paper and flattens out the creases on the stone wall. When he looks up, the two of them are still staring. “Go on then,” he says, laughing. He pushes gently, moving them toward the door. “I’ll be _fine_.”

 

Carey tugs on Killian’s sleeve. “Lets go get some booze,” she says, gleefully. Killian chuckles, following her to the open door of the tavern. She spares one more look back at Angus who rolls his eyes and grins.

 

He turns back to his paper, reading a few of the cover articles before flipping through the rest of it. He’s a page deep into the “Society” section when he sees it.

 

_McDonald Fortune Willed to Charity_

 

He freezes. McDonald fortune.

 

If the fortune had been passed on to a charity then that means—

 

_With no heir to the McDonald fortune left living, the money amassed by Mr. Caesar McDonald will go to various charities throughout the city. Mr. McDonald passed away last week—_

 

Oh.

 

Angus’s hands grip the paper tightly and he blinks a few times, expecting tears to fall. Instead, he feels something akin to numbness spread through his body as he stares down at the print.

 

His grandfather is dead.

 

He knew it was coming. Even when he met the Reclaimers, his grandpa had been close to death. Angus had gone to him after the Rockport Limited to explain the missing silverware with a heavy heart but his grandpa had just patted the bed next to him, inviting the small boy to sit.

 

 _“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the silverware, Angus,”_ he’d said. “ _You’re okay and you helped save the day! Tell a bedridden old man more about your adventure!”_

 

Angus had often wondered how his grandfather and his own father could possibly be related with how different they were. His grandpa was kind and jovial, an adventurer in his own right. His fortune was self-won over many quests and adventures, which he loved to recount over and over to anyone who would listen. Angus was his most avid fan.

 

The last time he had seen him, Angus had hugged him tightly, promising to visit as soon as he had wrapped his recent missing person case.

 

That was nearly six months ago.

 

His grandfather had been the one reason Angus had been so hesitant to feed his file to the Voidfish when the director suggested it. After the increase of people asking for the boy detective, they decided that it was the only way to keep him and the Bureau safe. He’d asked Johann if there was a way to not affect everyone in the world and the bard shook his head sadly. He tried to reason logically that his grandfather wasn’t long for the world anyway, but it didn’t help.

 

_Mr. McDonald was predeceased by his wife, Priscilla and his son, Gregory McDonald. There were no other living relatives._

Angus wants to yell at the paper that _he’s_ alive—he’s still here and that his grandpa _did_ have a family. He doesn’t care about the money or the house or any of the stuff inside. He want’s his grandpa and his stories. He wants people to know he exists.

 

Angus is struck suddenly by the immense weight of _loss_.

 

He’s not sure how long he sits there, sun still beating down on him, before Killian and Carey come out of the building. He’s staring at the paper, like if he looks at it hard enough he can change the printed words. Angus is startled by a careful hand on his shoulder and he snaps his head to look at Carey. She looks worried and Killian’s eyebrows are furrowed.

 

“Angus? You okay, little dude? We were calling your name,” Carey asks. Her voice is concerned to match her expression and Angus thinks _This is it. This is when I cry_.

 

But he doesn’t. The numbness keeps its hold and he nods, not saying a word. The jump down from the stone wall is minor and he settles onto his feet easily. As he walks away from the tavern, he hears the rustling of paper and a soft, “Oh, shit,” from Killian. The tavern was their last stop—unless they planned to hit the bookstore, which he doesn’t really want to do anymore—and he walks toward the edge of town so that they can call the cannonball and return to the base.

 

He hears Killian scrambling to catch up with him, laden with bags and the barrel of mead. “Angus, wait—“ Angus stops on the sidewalk but he doesn’t turn to face them.

 

He doesn’t jump either, when Carey touches his shoulder again. “Ango, I’m so sorry—“ she starts.

 

It’s rude and he knows it, but he shrugs her hand from his shoulder and interrupts her when he turns around. “It’s fine. He didn’t even remember me anyway. Can we go back now, please?”

 

The two of them share a look and Killian sets the barrel of mead on the ground and reaches a hand out to him. “Angus—“

 

“I would very much like to go back now. Please,” Angus says firmly. He’s suddenly very tired and the numbness keeps spreading and making him feel heavy. His arms are limp at his sides but they feel like they weight 10 tons each. He just wants to go _home_.

 

A part of him, that little voice that lurks in the back of his head, says _You left your home and no one remembers you. The moon isn’t your home. Your grandfather was your home, your family and now he’s gone_ but the numbness makes that easier to bear somehow, despite how wrong it feels.

 

“Okay, Angus,” Carey says. She doesn’t try to touch him again and he’s grateful. They walk in silence to the edge of town and Angus pushes on his bracer to call a return ride. He wishes he could have fallen asleep on the way back but he doesn’t. Instead he rests his head against the glass and watches Neverwinter get smaller and smaller.

 

The other two must think he’s asleep because they begin to whisper to each other instead of just talking. He catches a few words when they make it through the foggy feeling in his head but he assumes that they’re talking about getting ready for the party. It’s supposed to be a surprised so he’s not shocked to hear them talking about ‘keeping an eye out’ and ‘checking in on him’. Merle is off on a spa day with the Director because she had offered her services to keep him busy.

 

And maybe he does fall asleep because it seems like they're back at the base much sooner than normal. He slides out of the cannonball, waving to Avi and politely saying goodbye to Carey and Killian. They both watch after him and he catches them pull his crumpled paper from one of the bags to show to Avi. Angus walks quickly, not looking back.

 

He doesn’t go to his room. Angus knows that if he does, they’ll find him there right away. He avoids the library too.

 

It’s not until he’s pressing the button on the elevator that he realizes where he’s going.

 

The Voidfish’s chambers are dark but the lights of the long hall click on as he walks toward the tank. The Voidfish itself is floating silently in its liquid and Johann is nowhere in sight.

 

Angus is suddenly, inexplicably _angry_.

 

He marches up to the tank, heavy stomping footsteps that echo off the empty walls. “This is _your_ fault,” he spits. “You—you made him forget and, and now I—I don’t—no one knows who I am!” The numbness lights like gunpowder, streaking and igniting through his body until his hands are shaking and his breath comes shallow. “I don’t—I don’t have _anything_ because of you!” Angus slams a fist against the glass and tank doesn’t even rattle. He doesn’t care. He keeps hitting it over and over.

 

The Voidfish doesn’t shy away from Angus’s tantrum though. In fact, it pushes itself closer to where Angus is standing and punching the tank begins to make distressed noises. “Shut UP!” Angus yells and very abruptly, he’s crying. “Sh-shut up! St-stop _doing_ that! I hate it! I hate—I hate you!” he cries. His hand hurts from where he’s hitting the glass but he can’t stop. He’s furious and sad and too many other things to name. All of them boiling and thrashing together in his body and he doesn’t know _how_ to stop. There’s blood on the glass from where his knuckles have split.

 

And suddenly, he’s being lifted away from the tank. There’s a set of large arms wrapped around his chest and his stomach, pinning his hands to his sides and pulling him back. He struggles against the person, kicking out his legs and squirming. As soon as he’s far back from the glass, the person lets him go like they’d been burned. Angus doesn’t think, just charges back at the tank, stopped only by a large hand on his arm. “Angus! _Stop_ ,” Magnus says, pulling him back again.

 

“Let—Let me GO!” Angus snarls. Magnus drops his arm but only after moving to stand between the boy and the Voidfish’s tank. “Leave me alone!”

 

“Angus, listen—“

 

Angus scrubs at his face, wiping away snot and tears. His skin feels hot and tight and his eyes feel puffy. “No! I don’t—I don’t want to listen,” he says. “I don’t care what you have to say!” He holds his hand to his chest when the salt from his tears sting the cuts along his knuckles. It’s not bleeding too badly but it’s beginning to hurt now that he’s stopped. He falls to his knees and he can’t stop crying. “Leave me alone,” he begs.

 

“Buddy you know I can’t do that,” Magnus says softly. He kneels in front of Angus, hands resting on his thighs. They sit like that for a while, Angus’s tears eventually drying and his shuddering breaths evening out. Magnus says nothing.

 

He still says nothing when Angus crumples further to sit on his butt, legs crisscrossed in front of him, still cradling his hand to his chest. They sit together for a very long time before Angus sighs. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—“

 

“You did, though,” Magnus says, matter-of-fact. “And that’s okay.”

 

“Sir I—“

 

Magnus holds out his hand, palm up like he’s waiting for something. Angus stares at it until the man rolls his eyes and reaches out to take Angus’s injured hand in his own. “You were pissed off and you were hurt and you came down here to hide.” His big hands are calloused through years of hard fighting and woodworking but he’s very careful in the way he turns Angus’s hand this way and that, examining the knuckles. He lets out a low whistle. “You really did a number on this, Ango.”

 

“I’m—“

 

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Magnus interrupts. “Sayin’ sorry’s not going to change the fact that it needed to happen.” He reaches into his pocket and brings out Steven in his bowl and then a roll of bandages. “Do me a favor, will you?” Magnus offers Steven out to Angus’s good hand. The boy takes the sphere and holds it in his lap while Magnus gets to work.

 

“I don’t know why I was so angry,” Angus says quietly. It’s a half-truth, really. He’s not sure why it all came out the way it did, but he knows on a surface level that learning of his grandfather’s passing sparked his outburst.

 

“It happens,” Magnus says with a shrug. “I was very angry for a long time after—“ he hesitates, just for a moment, seemingly thinking of what he wants to say next. “For a long time after I lost some people who were really important to me,” he finishes. His hands are less steady when he wraps the next pass of bandage.

 

The Voidfish makes a quiet noise in its tank and Magnus smiles over his shoulder at it. “It’s okay, buddy. Angus is okay.”

 

Angus looks down at Steven swimming lazily in his ball. “I was very mean to the Voidfish,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

 

Magnus ties off the end of the bandage and rubs his thumb along the fabric absentmindedly. “I think it understands. Part of me thinks that the Voidfish knows about losing people more than anything else in this plane of existence,” Magnus says, trailing off into silence. He stares just over Angus’s shoulder for a moment, like he’s seeing something that isn’t really there and then he blinks, shaking his head and laughing. “Don’t know where that came from,” he chuckles.

 

Angus holds Steven out to Magnus to take back now that he’s done with the bandages. “Thank you, sir.” Magnus pushes the fish back at Angus before standing abruptly and scooping the boy and subsequently the fish into his arms. Angus makes a noise of surprise that turns into a watery laugh. “You don’t have—“

 

“I want to! Besides, who else is going to watch Steven during Merle’s party?” Magnus asks. “I’m assuming that you wanna duck out of it, yeah?”

 

Angus does, but he also doesn’t want to disappoint anyone by not going. “Are you sure I can?” He fiddles with Steven’s fishbowl, not looking up at Magnus.

 

“Kid, we’re not going to force you to go to a dumb party,” Magnus says. He turns to face the Voidfish and wave goodbye. The jellyfish makes a happy sound to see Angus in the man’s arms and Angus waves as well. Magnus begins to walk toward the elevator and says, “Besides, I know after a good cry I’m usually pretty tired.”

 

“I’m not—“

 

“Ango, you’re practically asleep already,” Magnus laughs, reaching out to press the button on the elevator. Angus wants to protest but his eyes are drooping and his limbs are heavy. In fact, he thinks he might have fallen asleep on his way back to his room because the next thing he knows, Magnus is tucking the blankets up around his chest.

 

“Thank you, sir,” he whispers. He doesn’t have a name for the feeling that’s curled in his chest right now but he thinks it might be bordering on _content_.

 

“No problem, Ango,” Magnus says with a grin. His face falls serious, just for second. It’s a look that Angus isn’t really used to seeing on him and he reaches out without thinking to touch the furrow of Magnus’s brow. “If you—“ the man starts, unsure of what to say it seems, “If you need to talk to someone about, you know…stuff, I’m here for you.”

 

“Thanks…Magnus,” Angus says smiling, and then softly, “I love you.” He pulls the bowl holding Steven closer under his arm.

 

Magnus doesn’t hesitate. He ruffles Angus’s hair and says, “Love you too, kiddo.”

 

The loss that sits heavy on Angus’s shoulders gets just a little bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's anything you need to know about me it's that I love Dad-Magnus and also that Ango needs so much love it's crazy. Also I love the Voidfish.
> 
> Also I just wanted to add something at the end of this chapter:
> 
> People deal with loss in a lot of different ways. Like, some people internalize it and others have loud emotions. Short of harming someone else or yourself (physically or mentally) I feel like there is no wrong way to deal with loss. I work with kids a lot and _god_ are kids crazy resilient. It's honestly scary and inspiring and awesome in so many ways. One of the things about kids is that more often than not, they have NO idea why they're acting the way they do. It's up to us (as adults--or as a person in a position of greater "maturity") to encourage and help them process the stuff they're feeling. It's not always clean or tidy but letting kids have emotions and not getting angry at them for not knowing why is so important. I wrote Magnus this way bc 1) i love Dad-Magnus and 2) it's a conversation i wish someone would have had with me when I was 13 and dealing with loss. 
> 
> ANYWAY ENOUGH SOAPBOXING. i love you guys
> 
> (find me on tumblr to yell more about angus and how much i love that small boy @geargieee)


	5. A Missile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic is often more powerful and more effective if tied to a strong emotion. And they don't have to be good emotions either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, pretty explicit emotional abuse in this chapter in a flashback. Just a heads up.

_“You don’t belong here, McDonald_.” _The boy pushes Angus backwards and the back of his feet hit the curb. He falls, arms waving wildly as he tries to catch his balance. He doesn’t._

_The sound his head makes against the stone of the schoolyard wall is a sickening crack and his vision swims as he struggles to sit up. Well it’s either that it swims or it’s the tears spilling from his eyes because it_ hurts _. He reaches back and his fingers come away wet and red and the boy who pushed him blanches before taking off into the school._

_Angus can’t seem to get his legs to work right even as he tries over and over to stand up. Come_ on _stand up, Angus. His father’s voice echoes through his head. “McDonald men rise up, Angus. We rise above the rest and live up to our name. Our legacy.” Angus_ tries _. He wants to do it right but his head aches and his hands are shaking._

_He threads his fingers together to hold over the gash on the back of his head and tucks his knees up to his chin, trying to look as small as possible. If no one notices him here, maybe he can wait out the dizziness and the blood will stop pooling behind his fingers and maybe make it inside for his classes after lunch. He tries again to stand and his stomach turns. Angus slams his eyes shut and fights the nausea as best he can._

_  
For the first time in his life, Angus wishes he weren’t so different._

 

Several years later and many miles up, Angus McDonald uses his pointer finger to trace the scar on the back of his head, covered by his curly hair.

 

“Angus, darling, are you listening?” Taako’s voice cuts through his day dream and he drops his hands to his sides quickly.

 

“Uh, yes, sir! I was just—I’m sorry, I guess I got caught up thinking,” he tries to explain. Taako waves a hand at him dismissively.

 

“Not a problem, my dude. Now, lets get back to work on those Magic Missiles, yeah?”

 

Angus sets his feet and concentrates. He’s been having trouble with this one for some reason and Taako seems to think it’s one of the most important spells a young wizard can know. The first time Angus had tried, the one and only Missile to come out flopped to the floor and rolled a couple inches and that was it. The second time, he’d actually managed to get all three but they only went a couple feet and in the totally wrong direction.

 

He focuses on the target that Taako has set up in the icosagon. He thinks about the missiles shooting out from his wand. He thinks about doing a good job and making Taako proud. He thinks about—

 

He thinks about his father.

 

 _When Angus has finally made it home from school, it’s already dark. The distance from the schoolhouse to his own wasn’t too great but he’d had to stop more than once to sit and catch his breath. He’s very_ very _tired and he’d accidentally taken the wrong street when he’d left the school and his head is_ pounding _. It’s like someone is drumming on the inside of his skull. He’d also had to stop to throw up what little he was able to eat during lunch, still huddled outside of the school on the sidewalk._

_Angus stumbles up his front steps only to find the door locked. He stares at the handle, confused and tries it again with the same results. He knocks on the door, quietly at first and then louder when no one comes to answer. The noise is a lot and he wrinkles his nose like doing that could possibly help him_ hear _less. The door flies open and the light is so blinding that he nearly takes a step back even after throwing up an arm to block it._

_“And what time do you call this?” his father demands. Angus opens his mouth to explain but his father talks over him. “I received a message from the school that you never arrived today. Care to explain yourself?” Again, Angus tries but is cut off. “Probably out ‘solving mysteries’ or watching the ingrates in the marketplace do magic again, weren’t you?”_

_“No I was—“_  
  


_His father takes a step toward him, crowding him back further from the door. “I’m_ speaking _, Agnus. You know better than to interrupt an adult, don’t you?”_

_“You asked me a question,” Angus mutters under his breath. Normally he would never but his head is pounding and he’s so_ tired _. He’s apparently not quiet enough because his father takes another threatening step._

_“Are you talking back now, Angus? Is that what you’re learning on your trips to Neverwinter to see your grandfather?”_

_Angus feels the tears well up in his eyes. “No, Father, I—“_

_“You will address me as ‘_ sir _’,” his father snaps. Angus glances around and sees a candle go up in the window of the house next door._

_“Yes, sir,” he mumbles._

_“What am I going to do with you Angus?” His father’s voice sounds concerned but Angus knows from experience that it’s not for him. It’s for the McDonald reputation. “I’ve tried to be reasonable with you. I’ve given you a good life here and yet you continue to disappoint.”_

_The tears start to fall and Angus doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “I’m sorry, sir.”_

_“And crying on top of it all,” his father sneers. “Useless. I should have sent you away to the militia school By now you would have returned as a real man.”_

_Angus looks up at him. “I’m a_ boy _,” he says. “I’m only 9-years-old, sir. I just want—“_

_“Well I want a son who can bring pride to the McDonald name.” His father reaches into the doorway and comes out with a suitcase. “I was hoping you would come home with the correct level of respect for your father, but I guess not. Perhaps you can travel to Neverwinter and live with my disappointment of a father.” He tosses the suitcase down the steps and Angus stares as it bounces and then stops on it’s side._

_“Sir, I—“ Angus takes a step toward his father, hands outstretched and fresh tears in his eyes._

_His father is unmoved. “Don’t think of coming back until you’ve learned that respect, Angus, and brought some pride to this family.” He steps back, and slams the door, plunging the front stoop into darkness._

Angus squeezes his eyes shut and three, perfect silvery Magic Missiles shoot from the tip of his wand. They strike the target and it all but explodes on impact. Taako makes a delighted sound that morphs into something panicked when he sees Angus has fallen to his knees.

 

He drops to the floor beside him. “Angus?”

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Angus says on reflex. It tastes sour in his mouth after remembering his father. He wipes at the tears sliding down his cheeks. It’s funny, but he’d thought he’d been done crying over Gregory McDonlad years ago.

 

Taako takes Angus’s wand from his gently and sets it aside before pulling the small boy onto his lap. “You wanna talk about it, bubbele?”

 

Angus considers it for a moment but shakes his head. “I think I’m done with magic training for today though, if that’s okay.”

 

“Sure thing, my man,” Taako says, running a gentle hand through Angus’s tangled mess of hair. “You wanna come back to our room and decompress a little? I think Magnus probably saved at least half a macaroon from the batch I made this morning.”

 

“I’d like that very much, sir,” Angus says smiling. He piles out of Taako’s lap and then offers a hand to help the elf stand up. They gather all their things, Angus sticking his wand back on his lanyard and Taako hooking the handle of the umbrastaff over his forearm. The walk to the Reclaimer’s suit is short but silent, Angus thinking about the honestly scary, visceral reaction and the power behind his missiles while thinking about his father. He knows it can’t be normal.

 

Taako waves his bracer in front of the door and it slides open. Merle is spread out on the couch, his soulwood arm wiggling around on the floor—it looks like it might be _breakdancing_ —and Magnus laughs from his chair by the fireplace. He’s carving a small block of wood and depositing the shavings almost right into the low burning fire.

 

“Look alive, homies,” Taako calls. “We’ve got a visitor.” Merle and Magnus both turn to look and Angus gives them a little wave. Taako busies himself in the kitchen. “You should have seen the Magic Missiles my man just cast. I think they were stronger than the ones I blasted at Magic Brian that one time.”

 

“That’s great, kid,” Merle says, feigning disinterest. He’s betrayed by his soulwood arm which gives Angus a thumbs-up and he hides a smile behind his hand.

 

“That’s _awesome_ , Ango!” Magnus nearly yells. Merle shoots him a look and he shrugs. “I’m proud of the little dude, what can I say?”

 

Angus’s heart flutters at that. _Proud_. In his life, the only other person who was really important to him to say that was his grandpa and something catches in his throat because it feels the same now. He feels so _happy_ to have made Magnus proud, to have many any of them proud. He’s already cried tonight and he can feel the tears building in his eyes again. “Excuse me, sirs,” he says quickly. “I’m going to just—“ he points in the direction of the shared bathroom.

 

It takes him a few minutes after the door closes behind him to get back under control. He’s never realized what this time on the moon has become. What it’s given him. Sure, he’s got a place to live and rewarding work to do, but it suddenly dawns on him that this place has given him what he’s wanted most and longest in his life. A family.

 

Angus shrubs at his face with his hands and then splashes it with cold water to get his emotions back under control. There’s a soft knock at the door.

 

“You good in there, pumpkin?” Taako asks.

 

He looks at himself in the mirror. There are tears still welling up in his eyes but he’s grinning like a fool and he knows there’s almost nothing that could take this feeling from him in this moment. “I’m good, sir,” he says. “I think I’d even go as far as to say _great_.”


	6. + A Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end. Angus has kept a lot of stuff in but there are times when you gotta speak up, right?

The Reclaimers call ahead to let everyone at the moon base know that they’re coming in from their mission. The lead on the Grand Relic had been a bust and all they had found was a cave full of mind flayers and duergars. Merle had burned all his spell slots on healing and they were still requesting medical assistance at their arrival. When the Director had asked what exactly was wrong, all Magnus had said was “We’re pretty fucked up,” and left it at that.

 

Angus is the first one—save Avi—to get to the cannon ball bay.

 

His mind races with the possibilities of what could be wrong with them. He thinks that Magnus would have sounded a little more panicked over the stone if something was _really_ wrong, but then again, they had all _died_ before so maybe his approximation of ‘wrong’ was skewed. He stands next to Avi and wrings his hands nervously, waiting for the glass sphere to arrive.

 

Angus doesn’t know what he would do if there were something seriously wrong with the Reclaimers. He’s only just turned 11 and only just started to realize where he’s supposed to fit into this strange, dysfunctional moon family and he _can’t_ lose it. Angus McDonald cannot lose _another_ family, especially one he’s finally found.

 

The room steadily fills up, healers from the medical dome, Brad from HR, Carey, Killian, Noelle, Johann, The Director, more and more until Angus thinks that maybe the whole Bureau of Balance is there. The unfortunate thing about being a small boy on a base full of adults is that he’s very easily blocked from seeing almost immediately. He sighs and tries standing on his tiptoes but it’s no use so he goes back to wringing his hands together.

 

Angus is almost ready to push his way through the crowd when there are hands under his armpits and he squeaks out a sound that is very undignified as Avi lifts him up and onto his shoulders. “You good, little man?”

 

“Yes sir, thank you!” Angus forgets for a second why they’re there and grins at the fact that Avi thought about him. The cannon ball comes into sight and the smile falls from his face immediately. He pinches at the skin on his wrist and takes a shaky breath.

 

A large, warm hand wraps around his ankle and gives him a little shake. “They’ll be okay, buddy,” Avi says. “They always are.”

 _But what if they’re_ not _,_ Angus thinks. _What if one of these days they just don’t come back?_

 

He doesn’t have time to think about it more because the glass sphere is coming in for it’s final approach and the room goes silent. Carey is the one who rushes over to the side of the cannon ball to open the hatch and help the boys through. She hands Magnus’s Railsplitter backwards to Killian to set aside and then reaches back through to grab Merle’s hand and pull him through. He looks more than a little worse for wear. There’s a large gash on his flesh arm that’s wrapped in what looks like a piece of Magnus’s shirt. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and looks exhausted, probably—Angus assumes—from using all of his spell slots on healing the party.

 

He can see Magnus moving around inside the ball and then the next thing to come through the little porthole exit is Taako’s feet. Magnus must say something to Carey because she turns and yells for a healer and two of them sprint forward. Angus’s hands are shaking because Taako isn’t _moving_. Avi tightens his grip on the boy’s ankle, probably trying to reassure him. Outwardly, it doesn’t look like Taako’s that badly hurt. There’s a bruise near his temple and a scrape on his cheek, but Angus has seen enough in his life to know that looks can be deceiving. The healers load Taako onto a fantasy stretcher and carry him off, corralling Merle with them as they go. He complains the whole way, but Angus can see the way he shoots worried looks at Taako and knows that there’s no way Merle would ever let the elf out of his sight.

 

Finally, Magnus stumbles through the exit and Carey wraps an arm around his waist to steady him. He looks the least hurt out of all three of the Reclaimers but his shirt is half gone and Angus can see the angry red of what look like only half-healed gashes on his side. He can’t take sitting back any longer and starts to squirm on Avi’s shoulders. “Please, sir,” he says, pleading. “Please let me down so I can—“

 

“Yeah Ango, I got you,” Avi answers. He reaches up and lifts the boy down from his shoulders easily but takes a second to hug him briefly. “They’re okay, Angus,” he whispers into Angus’s hair. “They’re going to be fine.”

 

Surprised at first, Angus recovers quickly and returns the hug with all the force he can in his little body can muster. “Thank you, sir.” Avi puts him down then and Angus weaves and pushes his way through the crowd muttering apologies as quick as he can and using his smallness to make his way to Carey and Magnus. The second he’s through, he breaks into a sprint and nearly throws himself at Magnus, remembering only when it’s too late that the man is injured.

 

Magnus, for his part, doesn’t even hesitate. He catches Angus in his arms, picking him up and hugging him tightly. “Hey there, Dangus,” he murmurs, sounding utterly exhausted. “Did ya miss us?”

 

Angus makes a sound that’s halfway between a sob and a laugh, burying his face in Magnus’s neck. He smells like smoke and sweat and a little bit like pine—“The smell lingers,” Magnus had explained a few nights prior in the Reclaimers suite while working on a pine carving of a duck (he’d also tried to explain why it was always ducks but ended up with that faraway look all three often got and then shook his head with a grin)—and Angus manages, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Come on, Mags,” Carey says, resting a hand on his back. “We gotta get you to the healers right quick, my man.” Angus makes a noise of agreement and starts to release his grip around Magnus’s neck. He begins to slide down but the man grips him a little bit tighter and holds on.

 

He leans back to look Magnus in the eye and says, “Sir, I—“

 

“It’s all good, Ango,” the man says with a small smile. “I don’t mind.” It strikes Angus then that maybe Magnus needs this just as much as he does and he wraps his arms back around the man’s neck, resting his head on Magnus’s shoulder. They start their walk and Angus nearly jumps when Magnus whispers, “Thanks, Angus,” quietly.

 

Angus squeezes him a little tighter but says nothing.

 

In the medical dome, the two of them are forced to part when the healers usher Magnus through a door. Angus stands in the middle of the open reception area and watches them leave. Carey places a clawed hand on his shoulder and he sighs heavily, turning to face her. She gathers him up in a hug and Angus thinks this might be the most hugs he’s ever gotten in a 15 minute period in his whole life.

 

It’s exhausting, living this life. He’s only 11 and he thinks that he’s had enough emotional whiplash to last him a while lifetime. He’s gone from scared to happy to worried back to scared in the span of a half-hour and he’s a very tired boy. Now that they know the Reclaimers are safe, he takes stock of the feelings that were close to bursting from him in the docking bay. He’s not ready to lose them—any of them. Anyone on the moon base really. He still has nightmares about losing them but to be faced with the grim reality of a close call has his mind reeling. He sits in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting area with his knees pulled up to his chin and his arms wrapped around them.

 

It’s only about 10 minutes before the healers let them—Angus and Carey, joined by Killian, Noelle, and the Director—into the room where all three Reclaimers are resting. The Director clearly wants to debrief but is holding back. Killian takes Carey’s hand (“To keep her from punching all three of them for getting hurt so badly,” she stage whispers to Angus who can’t help a smile) and the group enters the room quietly. Magnus is already trying to get out of the bed while Merle gripes at him, threatening to grab his war hammer and knock him out. Taako watches the whole thing with an amused smile.

 

Angus is unexpectedly angry.

 

He pushes to the front of the group and points a finger at Magnus. “Get back into bed right now, sir,” he demands. Magnus stares at him with wide eyes but collapses back onto the bed. He swivels to point at Merle. “And you,” he goes on, “you’re not in any shape to pick up your hammer let alone swing it.”

 

“Angus—“ Taako tries to interrupt.

 

The boy turns to him next. “You, sir, should _not_ be smiling. This isn’t a joke. You all almost _died_ ,” he says firmly. Taako snaps his mouth shut and keeps it that way. _For once in his life,_ Angus thinks. The room falls to silence, no one sure what to say.

 

The Director puts a hand on Angus’s shoulder and attempts to pull him back a bit. “What I think Angus means is—“ Angus shrugs her hand off carefully and turns to face her.

 

“I don’t—I don’t need you to speak for me, Madame Director,” he says. “I can do it on my own, I think.” He turns back to face the Reclaimers who are all watching him, surprise etched into their faces. Angus swallows thickly, willing himself not to cry before he gets through what he needs to say.

 

“I know that you guys have done a lot of stuff before and I know that you usually come out safe from it, but—but what if you _don’t_?” He paces back and forth a little, his hands clasped behind his back. He turns to Magnus. “You were talking last week about the time you tackled an owlbear into a lake and wrestled with it under the water! You can’t—you can’t do those things Magnus because they’re stupid and you’re going to get hurt and we’re going to lose you!”

 

He resumes pacing ignoring the way they’re all looking at him. “Merle! You don’t think before you do stuff! You’re almost as bad as Magnus about rushing into stuff. You assume that Pan is going to take care of you all the time and that’s—it’s great, to have that faith but—but it’s not _safe_ and you’re going to get hurt.” Angus can feel his throat getting tighter but he pushes on anyway.

 

“And Taako,” he goes on, turning to face the wizard. “You—you’re my teacher and I—I need you to keep being my teacher. You ‘hang back’ but you also don’t, you don’t hesitate to engage with _anything_ on a whim.” He wipes at his eyes under his glasses and soldiers on. “I—I’m only 11. I have a lot to learn still and not just from Taako. I want to learn how to—how to carve wooden ducks and how to make plants grow and how to paint my fingernails.” He turns to the group behind him. “I want to learn how to pick locks and which ciders are the best and how to pick the perfect notebook. You guys have to stick around,” Angus mutters, looking down at the floor. “I _need_ you to stick around. I can’t lose a whole new family right after I find them.”

 

The room is very quiet and Angus continues to stare at his feet, breathing a little harshly because he’s never spoken to anyone like that before. He’s never basically yelled at adults, even when they were being stubborn and thick headed. He’s waiting for the retaliation from them or for the lecture from the Director for his attitude toward them all but it never comes. Instead, he hears a soft voice calling his name.

 

Taako says it again, softly when Angus looks up at him. He’s sitting up in the bed with his arms stretched out, an invitation. “Angus, come here, darling.” Angus crosses the room slowly with his fists clenched tight and his fingernails digging into the skin of his palms.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but—“

 

The second he’s within arms reach, Taako bodily pulls him onto the bed and hugs him tightly. “I don’t really do…emotions,” the wizard starts. “It’s not really Taako’s _thing_ , per say, but I’m sorry.” Angus rubs at his eyes and pulls back enough to look at Taako.

 

“I didn’t mean—you don’t have to apologize sir,” he says. “I just never said it before and I wanted to say it now because I was really, _really_ scared,” he says. “I’m always really scared,” he mutters, almost as an afterthought.

 

“Oh Angus,” Taako says, pulling him in for another hug.

 

Magnus sniffles from across the room, wiping at his eyes with the edge of the bed sheet. “Ango I didn’t realize—“

 

“We didn’t think we were that important to ya,” Merle says carefully. “We’re just a buncha idiots, really.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Killian says under her breath and Carey elbows her in the side. Angus cracks a smile but tries to hide it behind his hand.

 

“You’re important to all of us,” The Director says. There’s something about her tone that’s off, Angus thinks. Not like she’s lying, but like she’s holding something back. She sounds sad and a little bit helpless. “It would be bad for the Bureau if you died, yes, but it would be worse for all of us who care about you.”

 

“A little bit of tact and care goes a long way,” Carey says. “I told you this before Magnus, but you boys don’t always gotta take the big hits.” She wraps her arm around Killian’s waist.

 

“I know,” Magnus says, looking sheepish.

 

“Not just you, Magnus,” she says. “I’m talkin’ about all three of you.”

 

“Ugh, are you all done guilt tripping us now?” Taako rolls his eyes but gives Angus a little squeeze that feels like reassurance. “Taako’s tired as hell and would like to take a nap if that’s good with everyone.”

 

Magnus fights a yawn, fairly unsuccessfully. “I could nap,” he says.

 

Merle nods in agreement. “I gotta get my spell slots back and this damn arm is getting awful itchy at this point.” The soulwood’s fingers curl into a lewd gesture and Merle makes an affronted noise.

 

It startles a laugh out of Angus as he moves to get off the bed. Taako grabs his arm before he can. “Stay a while, homie. I’d—uh, Magnus would feel better if you did.”

 

“S’true,” Magnus says shrugging.

 

Angus picks at the hem of his fancy boy shirt, hiding a grin. “If you say so, sir. I can stay a while.”

 

“Good lad,” Merle says, gruffly. “I’ll need someone to fetch me ice chips.”

 

The Director smiles at them all warmly and opens her arms to usher the rest of the group out. “Don’t run him too ragged, boys,” she says wryly before closing the door behind her. As soon as she leaves, Magnus jumps out of bed.

 

“Magnus!” Angus cries.

 

“Don’t worry, little man,” Magnus laughs. “I’m just doing a little _feng shui_ , so to speak.” He starts pushing his bed and a few minutes later, all three beds are lined up in a neat row, making one huge space. “There,” he says, brushing his hands together and looking pleased. “That’s better.”

 

Taako huffs out a laugh but turns on his side so he’s facing the rest of them, Angus nestled between himself and Merle. “You’re a real interior decorator, Magnus,” he murmurs, his eyes already starting to droop.

 

Merle pats Angus on the cheek carefully, unsure of how to show his affection. “Thanks, kid. Now—uh, get some sleep or something.” Magnus leans up on his elbows and shoots Angus an exasperated look and then a wink and Angus stifles a laugh.

 

It’s only a couple minutes before Merle is snoring away and Taako is breathing deep and even against Angus’s back. He’s close to falling asleep too, the warmth of the shared bed and the exhaustion from the day catching up with him quickly.

 

“Hey Angus?” Magnus asks, breaking the quiet.

 

“Yes si—Yes Magnus?”

 

“I—Thanks for, you know, trying to talk some sense into us,” Magnus says, kind of struggling to get out what he wants to say. “And I guess for putting up with us when we goof on you and for making us into a—um, into a better family.”

 

“I love you all,” Angus says simply. “Thank you for showing me what a real family is, I guess.”

 

Magnus laughs softly. “I love you too, kid. Now get some sleep.”

 

Angus, cradled in the warmth of his family, a boy of 11-years-old, and the best detective on the moon, does that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT Y'ALL. I can't believe I finished this shit. I had a balls-to-the-walls fun time writing this and I love lil Ango more than I can possibly say.
> 
> I want to thank everyone for being so great and for reading and commenting! It kept me going more than you know!
> 
> (if you wanna yell more about this family of silly boys and girls find me on tumblr @geargieee)


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